


Love Is Madness

by xBlackxRosexRebellionx



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, More like dubious consent, Mostly male on female though, Multi, Not necessarily rape, Polyamorous Male Character, Some female on female interactions, sex slaves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:27:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22357192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xBlackxRosexRebellionx/pseuds/xBlackxRosexRebellionx
Summary: This is the story of Emery Dawson, your average 21 year old young woman who winds up going out for her 21st birthday with her friends and wakes up to discover that she's going to be sold as a sex slave. This is the story of how she slowly worked her way through the ranks of the women that were purchased by the same man that bought her. This is the story of how she came to fall in love with the man who bought and paid for her. This is the story of how she came to have that same man wrapped around her pretty little finger. Call it survival instincts. Call it Stockholm Syndrome. Call it what you will, but this is the story of Emery Dawson, former sex slave and the Queen of Los Angeles.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character
Kudos: 7





	Love Is Madness

**Author's Note:**

> I think it goes without saying that this story is unlike anything I've ever written before. It's a rather controversial topic, but you all know that I don't scare easily and I don't steer clear of something just because someone else might find it offensive. This story is one about a girl that finds herself going from your typical, 21 year old young woman to a sex slave overnight. This is the story of how that girl manages to work her way up the ranks of the women that are owned by the man that purchased her. Now, since the man that purchased her is, indeed, wealthy and lives a life of luxury, it's very clear that this is not the life that every sex slave lives and she CERTAINLY has it easier than most. This story is purely fictional, and it is not intended to make her plight look anything like it does in real life. I'm not trying to make light of the situation or make fun of the girls who are in this sort of situation. This is simply the idea that my brain spit out at me, so this is the idea that I ran with. Needless to say, the story was aptly named "Love Is Madness" after the Thirty Seconds to Mars song that features Halsey.

**_Love Is Madness_ **

_You are insane  
My desire  
A violent daydream  
Love, love_

_  
You are crazy  
A perfect liar  
Said you'd save me  
Love, love_

_I knew the moment I looked into your eyes  
I'd have to swallow all your lies_

_I never said that I would be your lover  
I never said that I would be your friend  
I never said that I would take no other  
Be your lover  
Never said_

_You are insane  
My desire  
A dangerous game  
Love, love_

_  
You are crazy  
A perfect liar  
Simply save me  
Love, love_

_I knew the moment I looked into your eyes  
I'd have to swallow all your lies_

_I never said that I would be your lover  
I never said that I would be your friend  
I never said that I would take no other  
Be your lover  
Never said_

_  
Oh, woah  
No, ohhh  
No, woah  
Love is madness_

_I knew the moment  
I knew the moment  
I knew the moment  
Love is madness_

_  
I knew the moment I looked into your eyes  
I knew the moment I looked into your eyes  
I knew the moment I looked into your eyes  
Love is madness_

_Love  
I never said that I would be your lover  
I never said that I would be your friend  
I never said that I would take no other  
Be your lover  
Never said_

_  
Oh, woah  
No, ohhh  
No, woah  
Love is madness_

_  
Love is madness…_

** Chapter 1: Meeting Verona **

Emery cowered in the corner, pressing herself against the chipped paint of the wall as she heard the jingling of keys just outside the door of the room she was being held in. She squeezed her eyes shut tight, feeling the tears building up in her eyes. She wasn’t stupid. She knew what was coming. She never should’ve gone to that stupid club with her friends last night. She never should’ve left the apartment. But it was her 21st birthday and her friends had _promised_ her that it would be fun.

Emery had never been to a club before. And now she wished she never had.

She flinched as she heard the telltale click of the lock, then the creaking of the door as it was tugged open. She curled herself into a ball, wrapping her arms tight around her legs as she tucked her face into her knees, her toes curling into the tattered mattress beneath her.

 _“Arriba! Arriba! Moverse!”_ barked a male voice in Spanish. _(Up! Up! Move!)_

Emery felt the back of her eyes begin to sting as the first of her tears began to slip down her cheeks.

 _“Move!”_ the man snarled in English this time, stalking across the room to grab Emery by the arm and drag her off of the bed.

He shoved her towards the door and Emery tottered on her bare feet for a moment, struggling to gain her bearings as the room spun around her. She brought one hand up to press the heel of her hand to her temple, where the throbbing was starting to set in.

Whatever they had given her, it was starting to wear off now.

 _“Move!”_ the man hollered once more, shoving her none too gently towards the open door.

Emery tottered uneasily, slowly staggering out into the hall, where she found several other girls being ushered down the hall in front of her.

“What’s going on?” one girl asked as she was dragged down the hall by her arm.

“What the hell?” another questioned as she was shoved from behind by another Spanish speaking guy.

“Shut up!” one man hollered over the rest of the girls, “Move!”

Emery kept silent as she was ushered out of the hall and into a large, open room where a group of men were waiting. Emery balked then, digging her heels in and resisting as the man behind her tried to push her forward.

“No,” she protested, shaking her head.

 _“Caminar!”_ he instructed her. _(Walk!)_

She shook her head, muttering, “No. No!”

She heard some of the other girls protesting in the background when they realized that they were about to face the same fate. It was all becoming clear now, even though the drugs were still slowly wearing off.

The way the men in the room watched their every move, leering at them. They way they licked their lips and let their greedy eyes roam down the length of first one girl and then another, moving over them one at a time as if they were trying to decide what piece of meat to buy from the market.

And it clicked. These girls – all of them – were about to be sold.

Emery’s knees gave out as the heavy weight of that realization sank in, and the man behind her rushed to get his arms underneath her, to keep her on her feet. She lashed out then, arms flailing, elbows flying, her long hair swinging through the air.

She felt a satisfying _CRUNCH_ even as she heard it, knowing that she’d probably broken the man’s nose. And, while she knew that she should probably fear whatever punishment she would face for it later, it gave her a sick sort of satisfaction to know that at least she wasn’t going without a fight.

 _“Pequena puta!”_ the man screamed at her, grabbing her harshly by the arms and spinning her around to face him. _(Little bitch!)_

Emery struggled against him, trying to yank her arm out of his grasp, and another man came over to assist him, grabbing her by the arms even as the first man brought one hand up to wrap it around her throat.

But, rather than cower, like she knew the men would want, Emery simply narrowed her eyes at him, glaring up at him.

He was just bringing his hand back to slap her when she heard another voice break through the chaos that was ensuing.

_“Enough!”_ Dominic Verona yelled, his deep baritone echoing throughout the room and bringing all movement to an abrupt halt.

He approached the men slowly, his steely gaze locked on the feisty little brunette in their clutches. She was tense in their grasp, every muscle in her body rigid, and, as he drew nearer, she started to struggle once more, thrashing against them with her elbows and wiggling her small body. She shook her head from side to side with her efforts before she finally threw it backwards, connecting with a loud _CRACK_ as it met the nose of the man that was standing behind her.

Dom couldn’t fight the little twitch the corner of his mouth gave, and he couldn’t hold the slow, sure grin that spread across his face back either. She had more fight in her than he’d ever seen. And she was just getting started.

“I said enough!” he repeated himself, coming to a stop just in front of the fragile but fiery little brunette and reaching out to cup her chin in his hand, lifting it so that he could meet her eyes with his.

There was a fire that danced inside those amber colored eyes, a flame that no lesser man could ever extinguish. But Dominic Verona was no ordinary man.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” he asked her.

She clenched her jaw, choosing to remain silent as she stared him down, and he cocked one brow at her before turning his attention to one of the men that had brought her out for the lineup.

“What’s her name?” he inquired.

“I don’t know, sir,” one of the men replied.

“You don’t know?” Dom pressed.

“You don’t want her, Mr. Verona,” the other man tried to tell him.

“I didn’t ask you what you thought I wanted,” Dom pointed out, “I asked what her name was.”

“She’s new,” the first one supplied, “Brand new product. We just brought her in last night.”

Dom’s brows rose at that and he gave a slow nod.

So, no other potential buyers had seen her yet? None of them had laid their filthy hands on her?

“Believe me, you don’t want her,” the second man tried to reason with him, “She hasn’t been broken in yet. She won’t please you like the other girls would.”

Dom’s brows furrowed at this and he questioned, “So now you’re making business decisions for me?”

“No, no!” he quickly amended, “It’s just… She hasn’t been tested out yet, sir.”

“Hasn’t been –,” Dom started to ask before he was cut off.

“Ah, Mr. Verona,” he heard the familiar voice of his distributor cut in, “I see you’ve met some of the new girls.”

“As a matter of fact, I have,” Dom replied, “I was just in the process of asking some of your boys here about this stunning little thing. But I keep getting the run-around.”

The distributor’s brows furrowed at that and he took a moment to take the little brunette into consideration before his brows rose in recognition and he shook his head, stating, “This one is brand new product, Mr. Verona. I’m afraid she hasn’t been broken in yet –,”

“So I heard,” Dom interrupted, “But what I can’t seem to get out of these two is what, exactly, that means.”

“We just got her last night,” the distributor informed him, “I made my rounds when they brought the girls in. This one here… She remains… intact, sir. I’m afraid you won’t want that one. She’s not even supposed to be in the lineup today.”

He shot a quick glare at the two men that were struggling to keep a hold on the little brunette.

 _“Intact?”_ Dom questioned.

That couldn’t be right. Look at the girl for fuck’s sake! She was wearing a black, lace bra and matching, bikini cut panties, probably what she’d worn under her clothes last night when they’d picked her up from whatever bar or club they’d grabbed her from. A quick glance showed that there were no track marks on her body, no point of access for a needle. She wasn’t unclean and unkempt like some of the girls in the lineup. This girl wasn’t homeless. She wasn’t poor. She wasn’t your typical, run-of-the-mill kidnap victim that got filtered into the sex trade business. No. This girl was a middle-class girl, maybe even an upper-class girl. She was definitely someone’s daughter. Someone that might come looking for her.

He let his eyes roam over her for a moment, taking her all in. That little two-piece number revealed _plenty_ of her soft, pale skin. She wasn’t too large in the chest, maybe a B cup, but her stomach was slender, leading down to hips that had a sensual flare and the ample curve of her ass. She was all legs, long and slender, sleek and lithe. She had long arms and long, delicate fingers. Her hands and feet were small. And, even under all that wild, mussed, raven-colored hair, her features were undeniably stunning – those mesmerizing, amber eyes, those dark brows that arched above them and long, dark lashes that framed them, the slight angle of her slender cheeks and the roundness of her small chin, the elegant slope of her slender nose. She looked delicate, almost even fragile. But she was anything but fragile, if the struggle she’d put up was any indication.

“There must be some sort of mistake,” Dom said, shaking his head in disbelief.

No way in _hell_ was this girl “intact”.

“I’m afraid not, Mr. Verona,” the distributor told him, “This one here is still a virgin.”

“Is she legal?” Dom inquired.

“Excuse me?” the man asked.

“I said ‘Is she legal?’” Dom pressed.

“According to the ID they found on her last night, it was her 21st birthday,” the distributor replied.

Dom’s brows rose at that. She didn’t look a day over 18, if that.

“Then I’ll double it,” Dom stated, “Whatever you’re asking for her, I’ll double it.”

“I can assure you, Mr. Verona, that you don’t want this one,” the man tried to bargain with him, “There are several other nice girls here, several that meet your standards. I’m sure you’d like one of them better.”

“I want this one,” Dom insisted, his steely gaze locking briefly with her amber irises before he turned his gaze to his assistant, Antonio, to gesture with a nod of his head for him to come join them.

When Antonio had reached them, Dom pointed at the girl and informed him, “Give the man twice the price he tells you. And don’t let them lay a fucking _finger_ on her.”

Antonio nodded and Dom narrowed his eyes at the distributor before stating matter-of-factly, “I’m gonna go look around.”

“Y-Yes, sir,” the distributor agreed with a nod.

Emery watched as the man they called “Verona” walked away. There was something about him that struck her as different, something that seemed to stand out in stark contrast from the rest of the men that were currently eyeing up the “merchandise”. While the other men seemed like your average, creepy, chauvinistic skeezeballs, this man just seemed… out of place here. He struck her as the kind of man that wanted the finer things in life. He had a certain air of sophistication about him. And he was _certainly_ a man who demanded respect from those around him. And yet, here he was, currently looking to buy sex slaves from some bald, sleezy, Pitbull wannabe in a crappy, rundown warehouse. It just didn’t add up.

But Emery had misjudged people before… Like her friends that had taken her out last night… And now she was paying the price for it.

Verona’s “assistant” spoke briefly with the distributor in Spanish before pulling out a huge wad of cash. Emery’s eyes nearly popped right out of their sockets seeing that much money. She’d never even come _close_ to seeing that much money at one time.

Once the money was exchanged, Verona’s assistant reached out to wrap one large hand around her arm, leaning in to whisper into her ear, “As long as you’re a good little girl and you comply with his wishes, you won’t meet the same fate as the rest of these girls in this dump.”

Her dark brows furrowed at that and she jerked her head back to study him for a moment.

What the fuck was that supposed to mean? That he didn’t want to fuck her? That was _highly_ unlikely, considering what he was “shopping” for.

“Just do what he asks,” the Spanglish speaking man told her.

“If you don’t like this one, Mr. Verona,” the distributor called out to him as he was browsing over the rest of the “product”, “You bring her back. I’ll give you the full refund.”

“Not gonna happen,” was Verona’s response.

And, judging by the way he narrowed those steel colored eyes at the man for even suggesting it, Emery had a feeling he meant it.

Emery stood by, shifting her weight from one foot to the other restlessly as Verona looked over the rest of the girls in the lineup. She reached up with her free arm to wrap it around her chest, trying to at least cover _some_ of her exposed skin. But as soon as those steel colored irises locked on her, she felt like it was a useless endeavor. It was as if he could see right through her, and it sent a shudder racing down her spine.

He must have noticed because he gave a jerk of his head in her direction and told his assistant, “Give her my jacket. Can’t you see she’s cold?”

The man nodded, quickly taking the black leather jacket that was draped over his free arm and draping it over her shoulders. Emery was quick to snuggle into the warmth the jacket offered, her eyes closing for the briefest of moments as she basked in the silky sensation of the inside lining of the jacket. She turned her head, burying her nose in the collar, and her insides clenched as she was greeted with the scents of olive oil, oranges, sandalwood, and something like… sage. It was a strange but intoxicating blend of aromas, but it was so… _him._ Bold and musky, exotic but masculine. It suited him.

When she opened her eyes, she found him staring back at her. He was tall, probably standing at just over 6’0”, and broad in the shoulders and chest but lean in the waist and hips, long in the legs. He wore a black, silk shirt that was open at the top, the top two buttons left undone to expose part of his chest, revealing just a bit of the dark curls that grew on his chest. That silk hugged his body, rippling with every muscle that moved beneath it, and it was paired with a pair of black dress pants and black loafers. His complexion was tan, like he’d been bronzed by the sun, and maybe he had, considering the fact that they were in California – though she didn’t know the exact location after last night.

His eyes were the color of steel, a beautiful, pale gray. Those eyes held such an intense gaze that she couldn’t help but shudder when they locked on her. His hair was short, but curly, a deep, rich mahogany color. His lips were full and sensual, the kind most girls drooled over. He had a firm jawline, a rounded chin that boasted a dimple in the center of it. His cheeks were slender but slightly rounded, giving him a slightly boyish and charming appearance, especially when paired with the fact that he was clean-shaven. His nose was long but slender and it complimented the rest of his features well, giving him a very masculine look. He was nothing short of a modern-day Adonis.

The problem was, men had always been her weakness…

Dom shook his head as he let his eyes skim over the other girls in the lineup one last time. His feisty little raven-haired beauty was the only girl that would be going home with him this time.

It wasn’t often that he went out searching for new girls. If he was honest, he had this little superstition. It was stupid really, but he never kept more than seven girls at once. Lucky number seven. He’d come here with the intention of filling one of those spots since Simone had broken one of his Cardinal rules. She’d damaged one of his other girls, damn near broke her nose while scrapping with her like a couple of alley cats. It was downright disgraceful, a waste of a perfectly beautiful young woman’s face, and _someone_ had to pay for it. That someone had been Simone. He had personally broken her nose, right in front of the other girls, just to set an example for them, before Antonio and Ramirez had escorted her from the property and disposed of her. She knew too much about Dom and his business, possessed knowledge about too many things that could get him in trouble, should that information be passed on to the wrong person. So, she’d had to go.

Dom wasn’t a man of many rules, but he enforced those rules with a heavy hand. It was simple really. You didn’t lie to Dominic Verona. You didn’t disrespect Dominic Verona. You didn’t steal from Dominic Verona. You didn’t damage his property. You didn’t go _anywhere_ off of his property without an escort. If he gave you an order, you followed it. You wore his brand for _all_ to see. And you _damn_ sure didn’t touch another man, for _any_ reason. Those that broke his rules were punished. There were no exceptions.

With a sigh, Dom shook his head at the distributor, who gave a deep frown and started towards him, his mouth open like he was ready to speak. But Dom simply made his way over to his new purchase, bringing one arm up to wrap it securely around her waist, tucking her into his side and escorting her for the door.

As they made their way out of the warehouse, Dom leaned down to murmur into the girl’s ear, “I have eight simple rules. Rule number 1) Don’t _ever_ lie to me. Rule number 2) Don’t disrespect me. Rule number 3) Don’t steal from me. Rule number 4) Don’t damage my property. Rule number 5) You are not allowed _anywhere_ off of my property without an escort. Rule number 6) If I give you an order, you follow it. Rule number 7) You will wear my brand for _all_ to see. And rule number 8) You will not _ever_ touch another man for _any_ reason. Do you understand?”

The feisty little brunette turned her head to fix those amber colored eyes on him, narrowing them slightly and lifting her chin just a fraction of an inch. But the defiance in her eyes spoke volumes.

He stopped, reaching out to catch her chin in one hand and narrowing his eyes at her as he fixed those steely orbs on her, demanding, _“Do_ you understand?”

He felt the shudder that ripped down her spine then and a slow, sure smirk stretched across his face.

She gave a curt nod, just a single, decisive, downward nod of her head, and he nodded in response, releasing her chin from his grip.

“Good,” he informed her, guiding her once more for the jet-black Escalade that was waiting for them, “Because girls that don’t follow my rules are never seen again.”

He saw her eyes widen at that and her footsteps faltered, just for a moment, before she quickly recomposed herself.

Antonio opened the rear passenger door and Dom moved his hand to the small of the little brunette’s back, gently ushering her into the specially detailed sports utility vehicle.

Once she was inside, he slid in beside her, folding his large frame into the seat and reaching out with one arm to wrap it around her slender waist and slide her right over into the middle seat beside him.

“Put your seatbelt on,” he instructed her.

She hesitated for a moment, her eyes narrowing slightly, but then she was reaching for the belt behind her and sliding it around herself to fasten it.

He smiled at her, giving a nod of approval, and reached down to fasten his own.

“As long as you follow my rules, you will be treated with the utmost respect and kindness. You will be showered with gifts and live a life of luxury,” Dom told her, “But if you ever break one of my rules? They will never find your body.”

He watched as she turned her head to look right at him, locking those honeyed irises on him. She stared him down for a moment before finally turning her head to gaze out the opposite window.

Emery knew she was well and truly fucked. There was no getting out of this one. This man, this… _Verona_ obviously looked at her as one of his possessions. And he apparently took his possessions _very_ seriously.

Her thoughts were interrupted when she heard that deep, velvety voice inquire from beside her, “What is your name?”

That voice should’ve been illegal in all 50 states. It was like honey, dripping from his lips, so sweet and smooth. It was downright sinful, dark and dangerous one moment and as sweet as molasses the next. She’d never known a man’s voice could affect her so much.

“Aren’t you just going to give me one anyway?” she snipped.

“I could,” came his response, “But I prefer to let my girls keep their own identity.”

She gave a single, very unladylike snort of laughter at that, rolling her eyes, and retorted, “Right, because that’s the _only_ thing they’re allowed to keep.”

He was silent for a moment and, when the silence got to be too much, Emery squirmed slightly in her seat.

“Would you rather I have Antonio turn this car around? It’s not too late to take you back,” he pointed out.

Emery shook her head, despite herself, and he replied, “I didn’t think so. Answer the question.”

“Emery,” she murmured, her voice low enough that he could just barely hear her, “Emery Dawson.”

“Emery…” he practically purred, the word dripping from his lips like honey.

She’d never known that that one word could do so much to her. Her eyes drifted shut at the silkiness of his voice and she pressed her thighs tight together as the muscles within her fluttered in response.

“It suits you,” he decided.

“Glad you think so,” she retorted, aiming for indifference though she felt anything but.

“I can’t say I’ve heard it before,” he commented, “Where does it come from?”

“My mother says it’s German,” she replied, her eyes finding her lap, “But she’s Irish. I don’t know where she came up with it.”

“And your father?” he asked.

She was silent then, turning to gaze out the opposite window as the world flew by.

“I’ve never met him,” she answered, her voice barely above a whisper, “But if I ever do, I’ll be sure to ask him.”

She was silent then. Dom watched her as she stared out the window, her long, black hair forming a curtain around her, almost as if it could shut out the rest of the world, let her have her own little moment in time, even if just for a moment.

Dom nodded, digging into his pocket for his cell phone. He fished it out and entered the passcode, pulling up the main screen. He typed her name into the Google search engine and smiled to himself when the results popped up.

_Emery:_

_German origins_

_Male or female name_

_Sometimes used as a surname_

_Name meaning “strong” or “powerful”_

He nodded to himself. Yes. It certainly suited her.

Then a thought struck him.

“Are you hungry?” he asked Emery, his steely gaze meeting her amber one.

She bit her bottom lip.

Surely, she was. There was no way of telling how long it had been since she’d last eaten.

She’d just opened her mouth to answer when her stomach chose to do it for her, growling rather loudly.

Dom chuckled at that, shaking his head, and stating, “Of course you are.”

He reached out to press the button that would connect him to the intercom with the driver.

“Antonio!” he called.

“Yes, sir?” his assistant answered.

“Let’s make a stop at Giovanni’s,” Dom told him, “My girl is _famished.”_

“You got it,” Antonio assured him.

“Do you like Italian food?” Dom asked, turning his attention back to the stunning little brunette beside him.

“It’s my favorite,” she replied, though the way she studied him with her eyes narrowed slightly told him that she was a bit suspicious.

A slow, sure smile curled at his lips and he informed her, “Then you’ll love it. Giovanni’s has the _best_ Italian dishes in all of Los Angeles.”

He watched as those honeyed eyes grew wide, her expression becoming one of pure surprise.

“Los… Los Angeles?” she inquired.

“Yes,” he said, “Why?”

“I…” she stammered, searching for her words, “I just… Last night…”

She trailed off, prompting him to lean forward slightly, his eyes fixed on her as he asked, “Last night…?”

“Last night I was in Jericho…” she whispered.

It was so quiet, he nearly missed it.

“Jericho?” he questioned, “But that’s over 3 hours away.”

She gave a slow nod, mumbling now as she seemed to think aloud, “I… It was my birthday. I just turned 21 yesterday, and my friends… I wanted to stay in, but they insisted that it would be fun. They took me out to some club… Some… The Phoenix I think it was… The drinks were going down so smoothly. I’d never even had a drink before… But then these two guys showed up and they started talking to my friends. I tried to tell them that the guys were sketchy, but they didn’t listen… Tris said she had to go to the bathroom, and I saw this guy watching her. When she walked past him… He started to follow her. I didn’t want her to get hurt, so I was quick to follow. I found him waiting for her in the hall. I asked him what he was doing, but just he gave me this sick, twisted smile and shoved me back into the wall… I fought, God I fought so hard, but another guy came and helped him restrain me. One guy pressed a cloth against my face, and everything went black…”

Dom’s jaw clenched, his nostrils flaring at even the _thought_ of another man’s hands on her, but he leaned in to press a kiss to her temple, murmuring softly, “Listen to me. It’s over, Emery. It’s done. You’re mine now. And I know you don’t believe me now, but you’ll come to see that you have it _much_ better than any of those other girls ever will.”

Emery eased back from him, studying him for a moment, taking in the fierce look in those steel colored eyes. They were dark now, like a summer storm, and there was something distinctly possessive in them. It was very clear to her that he considered her to be _his_ now. She just didn’t know what all that implied.

His scent engulfed her as he leaned in, her eyes drifting shut as she basked in the tangy, tropical scent of him. There was nothing like it. When she opened her eyes, she found him poised there, those full, sensual lips just a hair’s breadth from hers and his eyes fastened to her lips.

But the car came to a sudden stop, sending her forward slightly before the seatbelt caught up and pulled her back into place.

Verona sighed, his eyes closing and his features growing taut with annoyance. But he was quick to recompose himself.

“It seems we’re here,” he stated, his tone flat.

She couldn’t help but crack a smile at that, a little giggle escaping her, and she was rewarded with the first genuine smile that she’d seen him give since she’d met him, his lips curling up to reveal straight, white teeth. He had a devilish grin to go along with the rest of his sinfully delicious features, and she knew then that she was in _deep_ shit when it came to this man.

But if she was going to spend the rest of what was left of her life with this man, then she’d best make the most of it.

“So…” she started, “I can’t exactly walk in there like this…”

She gestured to her body with a downward sweep of her hand, indicating her lack of clothing, and Verona shook his head, agreeing, “No. You will _never_ show off this much skin for anyone but me.”

The last three words were practically growled out as his eyes slowly skimmed down the length of her body, and she noticed the muscle in his jaw twitch as his eyes hardened. Oh yes. This man was _definitely_ possessive over his “property”.

“I had one of my girls pick out a nice dress for any occasion, should I decide to bring a new girl home today,” he informed her, “And it looks like I did. She’s a little taller than you, and bigger in the chest, but she’s a little narrower in the hips and her ass isn’t quite as prominent –,”

Emery jerked her head back at that, not disguising her distaste as she spouted back, “Well, thanks. You know just how to stroke a girl’s ego, don’t you?”

The words were practically _dripping_ with sarcasm.

“So, the dress should fit you just fine,” he finished as if she’d never even spoken, unfastening his seatbelt and twisting around in his seat to pull a white lace dress on a hanger from the foldable coat hanger in the trunk of the SUV.

Emery stared at the dress for a moment. She hated dresses. She really did. In fact, she downright _despised_ the things. She’d never been a big fan of skirts either, if she was honest. But this dress was beautiful and _way_ too expensive for her to ever be able to afford it with the wages she made during her summer job working at Reggie’s, a local coffee shop on 6th Street. It was right next to The Neverending Story, her favorite bookstore which, conveniently, was also her favorite place to spend her break when she was at work.

She was dragged out of her thoughts when she heard that smooth, deep voice inquire, “Well, are you just gonna stare at it, or are you gonna put it on?”

Emery nodded, reaching down to unfasten her seatbelt and sliding Verona’s high-dollar, black leather jacket from her shoulders, the cool air meeting her skin and causing a wave of goosebumps to break out over her skin. She took the dress from Verona, who waited patiently, and slid the zipper down the back of the dress before pulling the dress over her head. She smoothed it down over her chest and stomach before pushing herself to her feet and bending awkwardly so that her head wouldn’t hit the roof of the SUV.

She tugged the dress the rest of the way down, discovering that it only reached halfway down her thighs, and then bent her arm up behind her as she struggled to find the zipper. She’d just managed to pull it halfway up her back when she heard Verona scoff from his seat.

When her eyes found him, she saw him shaking his head and pushing himself from his seat.

“Here,” he told her, “Let me.”

“I can get it,” she told him, lifting her chin slightly as she bent her arm at an even more awkward angle, struggling – and failing – to do just that.

Verona shook his head, his large hands finding the curve of her hips and wrapping around them. He maneuvered her over to the seats and then pressed one hand to her back, pressing against it to bend her over the backseat of the Escalade.

“What are you doing?!” she cried, her whole body tensing.

Oh my God! He wasn’t really planning to fuck her _here,_ was he? Bent over the seat like this?

She felt her breaths becoming shallow, the air sawing in and out of her lungs, as she felt him slowly slide that large palm and those long fingers up the length of her back. Her fingers gripped the cream-colored leather of the headrest, digging into the soft cushions.

“Relax…” he purred, his hand pausing to wrap around the back of her neck when it reached its destination, “Just relax…”

She felt the zipper of the dress slowly being tugged upward and she closed her eyes, breathing a sigh of relief.

But that relief was short-lived when she felt his hot breath at her ear, that sinfully sexy voice rumbling out the words, “That comes later…”

Then he was retreating, the heat of his body leaving her just as quickly as it had invaded her senses, and he was turning to push the rear passenger door open. He held it, waiting for her to climb out and offering her his hand to assist her.

So, the perfect gentleman façade was back in place again? That was nice to know.

As she stepped out of the vehicle, her bare feet meeting the pavement, Verona gave her that slow, crooked little smirk that tugged at just one corner of his mouth. She was starting to get the impression that this man was sin incarnate, so very, very bad for her, even if it felt like total bliss.

But that was how the devil worked, was it not?

Emery was ushered towards the front door, one hand at her back even as Verona reached around her and opened the door to the upscale restaurant for her. He gestured with a single nod of his head towards the inside of the building for her to go on inside.

Emery stepped inside, feeling the cold, black tile floor against her bare feet. She took one timid step forward, then another. Fancy restaurants had always made her nervous. She was so clumsy. Here she was, wearing a dress that hugged her every curve and only came halfway down her thighs, boasting bare feet, and he wanted her to sit down in some ritzy restaurant and eat dinner with him?

“Go on,” he prompted, stepping into the breezeway and opening the main door to the restaurant for her.

Emery gave a slow nod, stepping from the cold, black tiles of the breezeway to the black and white checkered tile that served as the flooring in the restaurant itself. Once inside, Emery stopped, her eyes wide as she gazed around in wonder, taking in the old, red bricks in the walls, the rich, mahogany wood of the tables and chairs, the clean, white linen that covered each table, the stark, white china and clear, sparkling glasses that were arranged neatly at each place at the table. Live grape vines hung from decorative planters that were perched along each wall, boasting lush, purple fruits, and floating candles were placed at each table as a centerpiece. Chandeliers that boasted real, white candles were hung throughout the restaurant, giving it a dim but cozy atmosphere and authentic, Italian portraits were hung on the walls, some of landscapes, others of important Italian cities, and even a few of fruits or flowers. She’d never seen anything like it.

She was drawn back to reality when she heard a voice cut through her thoughts.

“Surely, you know that we have a very strict dress code here?” a stern, female voice questioned, prompting her to fix her gaze on the hostess, who she noticed was glaring directly at her bare feet.

Emery took a step back, only to be greeted with the brick wall that was Verona. His hand was on her waist not a second later, steadying her as she nearly jumped right out of her skin in surprise. When had he gotten so close? She hadn’t even heard him come in behind her.

“And surely, you know who I am,” Verona countered, his voice just as stern as hers.

The way the girl paled quite visibly and the energetic nod she gave told Emery that Verona had that steely gaze fixed on her, staring her down as she chirped, “Yes! Yes, sir. I’m sorry, Mr. Verona. I didn’t realize she was with you –,”

“Tell me,” he prompted, “Do you value your job here?”

The girl’s eyes were nearly as wide as saucers, her jaw gaping like a fish on dry land, and Emery could barely contain her laughter.

“I…” she sputtered, “Mr. Verona… Please…”

But she was saved by a dark-haired man in a fancy, tailored suit as he approached the hostess’ booth.

“Ah, Mr. Verona,” he greeted, “So nice to see you again. Please, right this way.”

But Verona wasn’t done yet.

He pointed at the hostess, informing her, “Don’t even bother looking for another job in the food business after this.”

Emery’s brows rose at that and she almost felt sorry for the girl. It was a simple mistake, really.

The girl looked down at her black pumps, her blonde hair shielding her face as she gave a nod, but not before Emery saw the tears swimming in her pale blue eyes.

Emery turned to Verona then, reaching up with one hand to slowly lower the hand that he was pointing in the girl’s direction and leaning in to murmur softly, “Verona, it’s an honest mistake. Let it go…”

Verona’s jaw clenched, his eyes never leaving the blonde hostess. His nostrils flared as he took a deep breath, but he gave a nod after a long moment of silence passed.

“She just saved your job,” Verona told the little blonde, “I’d suggest you prepare a flawless apology to deliver before we finish our meal.”

Emery’s amber eyes locked with Verona’s steely gray ones as he lowered his gaze to meet hers.

“Thank you…” she whispered, offering him a small smile.

He gave the slightest nod before turning his attention to the man standing beside the dejected hostess.

“Please, sir,” the man implored, “Right this way.”

He gestured with a wave of his hand for them to follow him and it was then, as they made their way between the row of tables, that Emery noticed for the first time that _every_ pair of eyes in the restaurant was fixed on them.

Dom followed the petite little brunette down the aisle, the tension slowly slipping from his shoulders as he let his gaze slowly sweep down the length of her body, taking in the way her long, black hair fell down past her shoulders in waves, the slender slope of her bare shoulders that were exposed by the spaghetti straps, the elegant curve of her spine as it disappeared beneath the thin, white lace of the dress Nell had expertly picked out for any occasion. The dress clung to her every curve, outlining her slender waist, the sensual flare of her hips, the ample curve of her ass. It came to stop halfway down her thighs, leaving those long, slender, pale legs on display for all to see.

When they arrived at their table, a secluded booth in an alcove far away from any prying eyes, Dom gestured for Emery to slide into the booth first before sliding in behind her. He always took the seat closest to the outside. Call it a quirk. Call it a slightly paranoid habit. Chalk it up to the fact that he was a possessive bastard. It didn’t matter to him. What _did_ matter to him was that his presence so close to Emery would help to dissuade any wandering eyes.

Once they were seated, the manager of the restaurant offered his formal apology, explaining, “I am sorry, Mr. Verona. The hostess… She is new. I can assure you that this will not happen again.”

“I should hope not, Giovanni,” Dom hinted, “Considering the fact that I’m one of your regular customers here, it would be bad for business.”

“Yes, sir,” Giovanni agreed, “Very bad.”

Dom gave a slight nod, finally letting his eyes part from the manager’s before he gave a dismissive wave of his hand and said, “Bring us a bottle of Allure, pink Moscato.”

“Please,” he heard Emery chime in from behind him as the manager turned to leave them.

The manager’s spine straightened in surprise and he threw back over his shoulder, “Yes! Yes, of course!”

Dom turned his attention to her then, his steely gaze locking on her as he leaned closer and narrowed his eyes at her, snarling quietly, “Don’t you _ever_ undermine me like that again.”

She jerked her head back slightly, blinking, and he pressed, “Do you understand?”

She furrowed those dark brows at him and said, “It was a stupid mistake. I don’t see what the big deal was.”

He clenched his jaw, one large hand finding the soft flesh of her thigh, just below where the hem of her dress rested, and he gave her a firm squeeze, prompting, _“Do_ you understand?”

She studied him for a moment. Something flashed in her eyes for the briefest second and he almost could have sworn that it was disappointment, but then it was gone, quickly replaced with that steely resolve as she tried to feign indifference.

“I understand…” she said.

“Good,” he told her.

“I understand that you’re one of those men that always has to be in control, no matter the situation,” she continued on to say, catching him off-guard.

He cocked one brow at her, narrowing his eyes in an obvious warning, but she pressed on, finishing, “And I understand that a blow to your ego is worse than any physical pain you might endure.”

“You’re playing with fire…” he warned in a low baritone that was just loud enough that only she could hear it.

“It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve gotten burnt,” she muttered under her breath.

She was silent after that.

It didn’t take Giovanni long to return with their bottle of wine and a couple of menus. He popped the bottle of wine open and filled both of their glasses halfway.

“Let me know if there is anything else I can get you,” he told them before disappearing once more.

Emery flipped the menu open, those amber colored eyes skimming over the laminated pages.

Dom lifted his glass of wine to take in the scent, swirling it slowly before tipping his glass back to take a sip. He let it set in his mouth for a moment, testing the flavor and slowly nodding his approval. It was bubbly, crisp, but it was sweet and fruity. He detected the rich flavors of apricot, peach, bergamot, and a subtle hint of mint. It was perfect. He was sure his feisty little companion would like it.

“Try the wine,” he instructed.

She turned her head slightly, taking him in for a moment and cocking one brow at him, but she reached out to wrap her long, delicate fingers around the neck of her wine glass and bring it to her lips.

She went to take a drink and he shook his head at her, telling her, “No. Not like that. There’s a technique to it, a way to ensure that you get the best tasting experience. Here. Watch.”

He demonstrated the “proper” way to drink wine before nodding to indicate that it was her turn. She mimicked his actions, her eyes drifting shut as she took in the taste of the sweet, sparkling, pink wine. When she opened them once more, a small smile tugged at her lips.

“Do you like it?” he inquired casually.

“I do,” she confirmed, “I have to admit, I’ve never drank wine before. But now I can see what all of the fuss was about.”

“Well I should hope so,” he teased, a playful smile curling at his lips as she lifted her glass to take another sip, “This bottle cost $100.”

A fine mist of wine shot out of her nose and mouth just before she started coughing and sputtering. She gasped, struggling to pull oxygen into her lungs and looking like a fish on dry land as she choked.

Dom reached out with one hand, wrapping it around the back of her neck as he leaned in closer, his eyes locked on hers as he instructed, “Breathe… Breathe for me, Emery… Just breathe… That’s it… Slow breath in… Slow breath out…”

She followed his instructions, slowly pulling the much-needed oxygen back into her depleted lungs, and he praised, “Good girl.”

When she had finally managed to catch her breath and recompose herself, she nodded to him to let him know that she was okay.

Her amber eyes were wide as she practically croaked out the words, “$100?!”

“Relax, Em,” he told her, chuckling and shaking his head, “It’s pocket change.”

Her brows nearly reached her hairline at that.

But then her dark brows furrowed, and she asked, “This is a test, isn’t it?”

He tilted his head slightly as he studied her, trying to figure out what was going on in that brilliant little mind.

“You brought me here to see if I could behave out in the public eye, to see if I would follow all of your little rules or try to draw attention to myself. You wanted to see if I would play the part you’ve chosen for me or if I would try to run…” she thought aloud, her words trailing off as she realized, from the slow, crooked smirk that stretched across his face just how true her words were.

She narrowed her eyes then, those amber eyes fixed on him as she snarled quietly, “Let me tell you something, Verona: I may be many things, but stupid is not one of them.”

“I can see that,” he replied, lifting his glass to his lips to take another pull from it, “Now… What would you like to order?”

** Lyrics from the Song: **

_Love Is Madness_ by Thirty Seconds to Mars feat. Halsey


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